Transformers Prime: Chimera
by HairTodayGoneTomorrow
Summary: A chimera is a wild, unrealistic dream or a hybrid of two different species, either way M.E.C.H. is progressing its human supremacy program. Contains violence, black humour, bad language and references to unsavoury practices.
1. Chapter 1

Hello gentle readers, just a few points from the author:

1) Obviously, intellectual property disclaimers apply. I hope that those reading this are savvy enough to realise who owns what.

2) I'm not a fan of massforming, hence the size differentials are more in line with Bayformers (yes I know even they weren't that accurate).

3) This is the first time I've written anything in quite a considerable period of time, so please forgive the rustiness.

4) There are obvious tropes and references to other films, it is intentional and in keeping with TFP I feel.

That being said, I hope you enjoy my first TFP brain fart, constructive reviews and so forth welcome.

Cheers,

HTGT.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Transformers Prime: Chimera 01

It was around three am local time when the lightshow began, a faint green shimmer in the night sky followed by a series of scintillating pinpricks. Observed only by keen-eyed astronomers and red-eyed late night revellers, it would grist to the conspiracy theorist mill for some considerable time.

Had a casual observer been able to survive hard vacuum and been so inclined, the flash was the incandescent green maelstrom of an ancient technology, designed to transport ships over the immense distances of intergalactic space. From it an angular silver shuttle emerged, shark-like, scorched and sparking in several areas from gouges and rents in the hull. Mobbing it were several smaller purple vessels, energy beams lancing across the surface. Turrets desperately tried to track and acquire the nimbler pursuers, occasionally obliterating a hapless drone sending its remains to join the other debris circulating around the planet.

"Frag it! A turret's down to 50% capacity, B's at 40%." An angular crimson mech spat from the engineer's post, "Hull integrity's okay for now, but we can't take too many more of these hits colonel."

"Understood soldier, just do the best you can with what you have. Primus knows, if I still had my own ship we wouldn't be in this scrap." A statuesque, rose accented white femme replied curtly from the pilot's position. "What is so important that the 'Cons have committed most of the outpost force?" Her compatriot only chuckled hoarsely.

"Something funny?" she asked, as she tried to manoeuvre the shuttle out of the reach of yet another volley. Groans of protest from the superstructure and another flurry of alerts gave testament to the strain the beleaguered shuttle was undergoing.

"Just pulled up the manifest, looks like our friends have been grave robbing, oh and there's energon in one of the holds."

"How much energon, exactly?" the pilot responded, mouth set in a grim line as she wrestled with the sluggish vessel.

"Enough to make us contestants on 'Does Primus Exist?'" the mech shot back, optics flickering as he lined up another volley of fire. The turrets homed in on their targets, spitting coruscating energy. "A turret down to 45%, B now at 35%, these piles of scrap weren't designed for a long firefight."

"I had to ask." She sighed before coming to a decision, "Brace yourself soldier, I'm going for re-entry. We'll see if we can lose them planet side."

++!++!++!++!++!++

Several miles below and blissfully unaware of the events unfolding in the firmament above him, a teenage boy lay spread-eagled in bed, snoring gently. He was rudely interrupted from his slumber by the strident blare of his smartphone. Groaning he fumbled for the offending item, knocking it onto the bedroom floor. Finally after some effort and muttered curses he finally managed to retrieve the article and thumb the accept call button.

"Saddle up partner, we're bridging to the base in five." A female voice ordered curtly as soon as he picked up.

"Arcee what is so important you have to wake me," the teenager peered blearily at the display, "at 3.30 in the morning?"

"It'll become clear back at base, just be in here in five or I'll come and find you." The line went dead and Jack Darby suddenly found himself very much wide awake. Desperately trying to extricate himself from the knotted bedding, he managed instead to have a swift, intimate and painful liaison with the bedroom floor.

Minutes later Jack stood in the garage, looking as though he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards and clutching a mug of coffee as though his life depended on it. To make matters worse his partner was desperately trying not to laugh herself sick, but the telltale shaking of her front forks was a dead giveaway.

"Next time you're halfway through your recharge cycle, I'll wake you up and see how you like it." Jack huffed, taking a swig of the draft bitumen loosely masquerading as coffee that his mother had left in the percolator.

"Providing you have a cube of warm stimu-grade, extra foamy with crystal frosting I'd probably let you live." She quipped back, nudging her human companion affectionately as the ground bridge snapped into existence with the faintest whiff of ozone.

Arcee waited until she was past the event horizon before reverting to her primary mode. Although diminutive compared to the other Autobots she still towered over Jack by almost half a body length. Looking down on her teenage charge, her mouth curled into a familiar smirk.

"Anyone ever told you that you're cute first thing in the morning?" She teased, ruffling his hair. She was rewarded by Jack going a fetching shade of scarlet and almost choking on a mouthful of coffee.

"Arcee!" he spluttered, coughed then recovered, "Great, just snorted some of Mom's best crude!" Although in the past two years, he'd probably seen and experienced more than some humans would in a lifetime, she still knew ways to make him feel like an awkward self-conscious teenager.

"When the pair of you have quite finished, I am attempting some delicate calibration here!" An ill-tempered voice greeted them as they walked into the base.

"Nice to see you too Ratchet!" Arcee snapped back, wondering whether to continue her banter with Jack just to raise the curmudgeonly medibot's energon pressure a few bars. She finally decided against it, as despite everything she really didn't want him popping a fuel line.

The rest of the Autobots were assembled around the main viewscreen, maintaining a respectful distance from Ratchet who appeared to be attempting to home in on an audio transmission. So far it was eluding him and as a result his already low tolerance levels were becoming paper thin.

On the gantry above a small cluster of humans stood in a loose huddle awaiting the outcome of Ratchet's efforts. June Darby looked pensive, as she nursed her own mug of coffee presumably from the same batch. Agent Fowler as usual had the demeanour of a grizzly bear prematurely awoken from hibernation. Miko on the other hand was leant against the gentry railing, chin propped in her hands with a look of abject boredom on her face. Finally Raf the youngest of the humans present was frantically hammering on his laptop, with a look of intense concentration on his features. After several tense moments, he smiled and pushed his thick horn-rimmed glasses up his nose.

"Okay Ratchet I've found the mismatch and corrected it." He stated with no small amount of pride, "Go ahead and try again."

"Thank-you Raf." The medic replied as yet again he tried to lock in on the transmission. He was rewarded after several tense minutes by the viewscreen's spectrum analysis replaying an eerie chittering static. Ratchet looked at the young human and nodded, his appreciation for Raf's efforts implied.

"OK so you've discovered Autotuned white noise, so what's the big deal?" Miko piped up from the gantry. The events were eating into her precious weekend and she wanted nothing more than to get a solid eight hours sleep.

"That is our native language Miko." The stentorian rumble of Optimus Prime cut short any potential argument, "We did not arrive on your world with the capacity to communicate as a native; it was something we acquired after studying humanity's culture extensively."

"For once Miko's observation is not far from the truth." Ratchet expounded, "Cybertronian is a highly complex language, which the human ear and brain are woefully ill-equipped to process, furthermore…"

"There is a time and a place for explanations old friend." Optimus chided gently, knowing well his chief medical officer's tendencies to go off at a tangent and ramble. "Are you able to send our allies the cultural and linguistic assimilation packs?"

"Of course." The medic replied smugly, fingers dancing smoothly over the interface icons. After a few minutes the spectrum analyser reverted to genuine static, before a cheerful female cut-glass British accent announced.

"Good morning! I hope the locals can understand us now, it appears we're in a bit of a sticky situation."

"It is a good morning indeed." Optimus replied, "It warms my spark to know that you are still online colonel, what 'sticky situation' have you found yourself in this time?" A faint smile tugged at the corner of the Prime's mouth, knowing full well her capability for getting into difficult scenarios. A capability equally matched by her ability to emerge from such situations unscathed.

"Oh shush Optimus! Any more talk like that and you'll have me all hot and bothered." The voice replied with a chuckle. "I'll give you the highlights. That bodyguard you assigned to me, can't think of a better 'Bot in a firefight but he's a bloody abysmal navigator. We found ourselves bouncing into a 'Con outpost instead of the way station we were aiming for."

"Oi! Don't blame yours truly for outdated intel!" A second voice interrupted, sounding like an East-End leg breaker with a 40 a day Marlboro habit. Had anyone been observing Ratchet they would've noticed an almost imperceptible shudder run through his frame.

"What in Primus' name did I do to deserve this?" The medic muttered under his breath to no-one in particular.

"Just pulling your cam-chain Sideswipe!" the voice answered breezily before continuing, "Had to commandeer a 'Con shuttle after we had our afts shot out from under us. I don't think they were best pleased."

"Too fraggin' right Elita!" Sideswipe chipped in before he suddenly turned more serious, "Scrap! Got more inbound, signatures look different to Vehicons. Looks like we've got ourselves a welcoming party colonel."

"Understood." Elita's voice suddenly became hard-edged, "Optimus you mentioned an alliance with the locals on this planet, I'd appreciate it greatly if you'd ask them to stand down."

"Already on it Prime." Fowler said brusquely as he reached for his phone and started stabbing buttons with a vengeance. Pacing back and forth across the gantry, he began a distinctly one-sided conversation with the unfortunate soul who had the rotten luck to answer.

"Airman I don't give a damn what your procedures are! I need to know what you have over Nevada right now or I guarantee you, the next thing you'll be flying will be a mail cart!" he bellowed over the line. After a few tense moments he nodded, his face becoming even more fulminous, "Nothing? Then I suggest you get some of Groom Lake's finest in the air P.D.Q!"

He thumbed the end call button viciously and turned to address both Optimus and Elita. "Groom Lake reports that they have nothing in the area, have you a visual on the inbound?"

"Working on it." Sideswipe replied curtly, trying to train the sensor array on the intercepting aircraft. Eventually some grainy footage appeared of black, facetted, aircraft, which were devoid of any markings, running weapons hot and bearing for the shuttle.

"Ratchet there's a signal being broadcast on known Cybertronian frequencies." Raf's timid voice suddenly broke the silence that had fallen.

"Non-terrestrial transport, you are to power down all weapons and be escorted. Your technology is now the property of M.E.C.H. Any attempts to evade capture or retaliate will potentially be met with lethal force." A sinister voice intoned.

"Silas! Why can't that asshole just stay dead?" Jack ground out, surprising the group with the amount of venom in his voice. Arcee glanced at her partner with concern, wishing not for the first time that their paths had never crossed. June swiftly descended from the gantry to be with her son, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, giving him support in a way that Arcee couldn't allow herself to.

"I take it that the incoming aren't friendly then." Elita stated bluntly over the link as she tapped into the terrorist frequency, "Gentlemen, I'm afraid I'll have to decline your kind offer. Catch me if you can you sump-sucking bastards!"

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Sump-sucking bastards?" Half a world away a black clad aide turned to a battle scarred, barrel-chested crag of a man who was watching the view screen with detached amusement.

"She has spirit, I'll grant her that." He chuckled darkly, before issuing orders to the pursuing aircraft, "Flights Gamma and Sigma, prepare Directional High-Energy Radio Pulse units. If they refuse to capitulate, knock them out of the sky."

Silas turned to address his assembled minions, "This is where thorough preparation pays off. It isn't glamorous but know this, for all those long hours in the field studying the movement patterns of the N.T.M.O.'s, now we are reaping the rewards." He turned back to one of the advisors, "What intellectual assets do we have on the ground in Nevada?"

"Dr. Herbert West and Dr. Amber McLaren from the Bishop Institute." Replied one of the masked figures, "Assigned to Project Babel, sir."

"Excellent, it's about time they found out who's been funding their research." Silas replied, "Bring them in, the abandoned mining facilities outside Ely should suffice."

"Yes sir."

++!++!++!++!++!++

On board the shuttle matters were taking a turn for the worse, the shuttle had never been designed for escape and evade, especially in atmospheric conditions. Only Elita's piloting skills were preventing them from becoming a permanent feature of the barren Nevada landscape.

"Now's not the time to cease firing soldier." Elita barked as she forced the craft into a physics defying kulbit. Unprepared for the tight mid-air somersault, the interceptors shot past the shuttle to be met with devastating volleys of fire from the turrets. Two of the M.E.C.H. aircraft exploded in a blazing shower of shrapnel.

"Trying to keep my energon down!" Sideswipe gritted as his vision cleared, "A turret's now out. B's down to 10%, 5%, dry. Fraggin' shame we can't just disappear!"

"Wishful thinking, wait what did you just say?" Elita narrowly avoided impact with a mesa as one of her processor cores started formulating a plan.

"I said fraggin' shame we can't just disappear!" Sideswipe reiterated as Elita threaded the shuttle between the unforgiving scenery.

"Heard you the first time. 'Con craft are usually fitted with active E.M. stealth systems; I can't believe I didn't think of that of sooner." She berated herself.

"'Appens to the best of us colonel, didn't think of that either." Sideswipe quipped as he tried to access the necessary systems. "Right, got good news and bad news."

"You know me, always the bad news first." Elita ground out.

"Stealth systems are still off-line after the last 'Con hit." Sideswipe sighed and unbuckled himself from the engineer's post, wearily making his way to one of the emergency airlocks.

"So what's the good news and where in the Pit do you think you're going?" Elita's tone of voice brooked no interference as she turned in the pilot's chair to glare at him.

"Got a full tank of energon and my jump-pack's good. Reckon I can buy you some time, at least until the shuttle's auto-repair can get its fraggin' scrap together." Sideswipe locked optics with his commanding officer, his voice low, "Colonel, just find me a half decent drop zone and let me do my fraggin' job."

"Primus speed Sideswipe." Elita acquiesced as Sideswipe opened the first blast door.

"Give my regards to Optimus; it's been an honour Elita." He replied, as the reinforced cybertanium doors slammed shut.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Sir, Gamma 2 has reported a bailout from the N.T.M.O. craft." The M.E.C.H. communication officer reported, interrupting Silas' reverie.

"A simple diversionary tactic," he stated contemptuously, "however a lone individual will be simpler to capture. No doubt the authorities will have been alerted to our presence, we must secure a 'sample' with haste."

"C-130 with onboard ground-units already inbound to the location, with orders to drop at Ely sir." The officer replied, still monitoring the stream of comm. chatter and intel that was being fed to his station.

"Well it's best that I made my presence felt then." Silas said smugly, "As you were." He turned smartly and marched across the grilled floor to the exit, boots clanking hollowly. Shortly before the reinforced doorway his outline glitched then faded to nothing. No-one present even batted an eyelid.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Inside outpost Omega One all eyes were on Agent Fowler, who seemed to be on the verge of an apoplectic seizure. In the space of a few minutes, his hopes of a quiet weekend spent with his long-suffering wife and children had devolved into the nightmarish prospect of presidential conference calls, with a side-order of paperwork the size of small third world country.

"What in the name of Ulysses S. Grant's beard has just happened!" he demanded of the assembled Autobots, "Can't any of you arrive here without tearing up the goddamn scenery?"

"Agent Fowler, the manner in which we arrive on your world is something we have little control over." Optimus replied, attempting to placate him. "Believe me, if we could simply bridge in without drawing attention to ourselves, we would."

"So who's the new 'Bots?" Miko suddenly inquired eyes alight with mischief, attempting to derail a potential Fowler tirade before he had the chance to work up a full head of steam. Jack glanced up at the Japanese exchange student, mouthing a silent thank-you.

"Elita-1 is Optimus' XO; she headed up Autobot special operations and was my commanding officer before the Exodus." Arcee replied somewhat wistfully. "As for Sideswipe, a Kaon ex-gladiator who had the chance to join the 'Cons but told Megatron where to shove it."

"Cool! Was he a Wrecker like Bulk and Jackie?" Miko was positively bubbling with excitement.

"Err no Miko," Bulkhead answered a little uncertainly, "some 'Bots work better solo, Sides is one of them."

"Long story, best not to get into it right now." Arcee interrupted, looking pointedly at Ratchet who muttered something unintelligible before returning to his station.

"What is your status colonel?" Optimus brought any further discussion to a close with his question.

"Turrets are out, stealth systems are on the fritz and Sideswipe's stepped outside to have a 'chat' with those fellows from M.E.C.H. All in all we're a bit buggered really." Elita replied, her natural good-humour belying the gravity of the situation. "Just like old-times isn't it?"

"Any chance of bridging her out?" Jack inquired.

"Highly unlikely, remember the problem I had with bridging to that moving train?" Ratchet snapped without turning to address him, "This would be an order of magnitude more difficult again."

"We can only hope that Sideswipe's gamble will pay off." Optimus concluded as the room fell silent once more.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Sideswipe literally hit the ground running, wheeled legs pumping like a speed skater; he bounced precariously along the dirt track, trying to evade the weapons' locks he was positive the aircraft had on him now. An arm-blade digging in to the soil to act as a pivot he leant into a tight turn, proximity sensors screaming warnings at him. The surface was too rough for him to use his alt mode and even if he could, his pursuers still had the edge on speed.

"N.T.M.O. you are to surrender immediately or be terminated." Sideswipe's optics locked on to a section of clearer track ahead. Performing a fluid 180 he turned to face his attackers, arm-blade smoothly transitioning into an energon cannon. His other arm extending two clawed digits into a time-honoured longbowman's salute at the interceptors.

"Come and 'ave a go, if yer think yer 'ard enough!" he bellowed at them, loosing a devastating volley of fire that turned another aircraft into a blossoming flower of shrapnel and flame.

In the distance he saw the shuttle shimmer before disappearing from view. Momentarily distracted, he was lining up another shot when he saw the air in front of the last combatant ripple, before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, I've managed to garner some positive feedback for chapter 1, onwards and upwards as they say. In case any of you were wondering what warm stimu-grade, extra foamy with crystal frosting is, well it's a latte of sorts. Presenting for your delight and delectation chapter 2!

Cheers,

HTGT

++!++!++!++!++!++

Transformers Prime: Chimera 02

Everything hurt, limbs, internal sub-systems to the jackhammer pounding in his central processor. Cautiously he opened one optic and it felt as though the wrath of Primus had exploded in the back of his head. He decided to let the humans think that he was temporarily offline for now, once back to full strength he could better contemplate his options. He barely registered the passing wash of the landing C-130 as he battled to get as many primary systems online as possible.

Unseen by all, the hijacked shuttle circled overhead, its damaged cloak finally restored. "Frag it, get up soldier!" Elita cursed out loud, hoping somehow to fix whatever had happened to Sideswipe by sheer force of will alone. She watched in dismay as the C-130 disgorged two unmarked HumVees and three squads of sinister, masked infantry. Realising that she should also be relaying the information back to base, she opened the secure channel.

"Sideswipe's down for the count, last aircraft hit him with some sort of pulse weapon. There's one transport aircraft, two ground vehicles and two dozen infantry. They're securing him to some form of palette, looks like they're prepping him for removal." She reported briskly, "All vehicles and infantry are unmarked; operatives appear to be highly trained. This leaves me with one burning question, how in the Pit did they manage to have a snatch team so close at hand?"

++!++!++!++!++!++

That question hung in the air back at the silo, Agent Fowler was back on the phone desperately trying to ascertain where the Groom Lake interceptors were.

"They know you're in the area." Jack's simple statement of fact caused everyone to pause, "Think about it, a lot of Autobot activity has been in and around the Jasper area for years now. Hell they even started bombing our goddamned schools looking for us! Stands to reason they'd move a unit in and wait for an opportunity." He finished, suddenly sounding older than his teenage years.

Optimus smiled sadly at this, "I concur with your observation Jack, being tied to this base has made it possible for our enemies to approximate our location. However, that is something that we will have to address once our immediate issue has been resolved."

"Prime! Groom Lake reports that they have AWACS and F-22's inbound but they're looking for a big needle in a super-sized haystack." Fowler leant against the gantry railing suddenly looking very weary, "Do you have any idea how big the debris field is going to be after Little Miss Prissy Britches finishes?" He asked rhetorically.

"Somewhat substantial?" Optimus deadpanned either innocently taking Fowler's question at face value, or indulging in a rare opportunity to get one over the bullish agent.

"Quite the charmer isn't he?" Elita observed dryly over the comm. link, "Although to be fair I'm just flying this 'Con crate, Sideswipe was in charge of fire-control. I apologise on behalf of my gunner Agent Fowler, sadly he doesn't quite understand the concepts of 'subtlety' or 'restraint' yet. On the bright side, he is housebroken and has stopped chewing the furniture if that helps."

Bulkhead and Miko sniggered openly at Fowler, who for once was at a loss for words. Arcee was forced to turn her back to the agent for a moment to help preserve her stern demeanour, which was becoming dangerously close to cracking. It helped that she could then share a private smile with Jack and June before recomposing herself. Having been mostly silent for the duration, a series of interrogative bleeps and whistles from Bumblebee brought the room back to the matter at hand.

"A fair question Bumblebee, M.E.C.H. may indeed take drastic action if they perceive themselves to be under threat. Agent Fowler, it would be wise for your forces to keep their distance." Optimus couched his request carefully, "Elita is in a position to track the transport aircraft undetected by their sensors. Once at its destination, we will then be better placed to mount a rescue attempt."

Fowler nodded in agreement to Optimus as he headed for elevator, "I'll call the flyboys off, got enough mess to clean up for one weekend. By the way, when you get him back, tell him he'd better damn well learn 'subtlety' and 'restraint', or I'll be using his bearings as paperweights!"

There was a palpable air of relief as the human liaison headed topside, although Fowler had proved himself as a stalwart ally, his confrontational nature could be something of a liability at times.

"Elita as discussed, follow the M.E.C.H. transport and report back as soon as you have discovered its destination. Everyone else should get some rest for now and be ready to roll-out once we learn where they are taking Sideswipe." Optimus ordered, it had been a long night for all concerned and there was the prospect of an early morning assault looming on the horizon.

"That goes for you too Optimus." Elita replied crisply, "With all due respect, I refuse to be 'debriefed' by a commanding officer who's half-offline from recharge deprivation."

"Primus-speed colonel, I look forward to seeing you soon." Optimus closed down the comm. link a rare smile on a face, mirrored by the smug expression worn by his chief medical officer. He watched the assembled Autobots leave for their respective quarters, ushering their human charges in the direction of the guest dormitory created for such scenarios. Bumblebee carrying a gently snoring Raf, who had finally succumbed to fatigue a few minutes earlier. Miko was perched precariously on Bulkhead's broad shoulders, chattering away ten to the dozen, occasionally punctuated by a yawn. Arcee brought up the rear, hand on Jack's back, the pair of them deep in private conversation.

Finally only Optimus, Ratchet and June remained in the main silo. "She knows you too well." Ratchet commented, "So, when was the last time you had a full recharge cycle Optimus?"

"Far too long ago old friend," Optimus admitted ruefully, "a bad habit I intend to break as of now." Bidding June and Ratchet goodnight he headed for his own quarters.

"Good! You know full well that as Chief Medical Officer, I would get the blame if you were in anything but the best of health." Ratchet heckled after him.

"I take it their relationship is a little more than professional then." June stated as she started inflating the air-mattress in the communal area, "I can't imagine just an officer would be able to get away with telling Optimus to 'shush'."

"The colonel has special dispensation June." Ratchet replied with an air of relish, looking at the nurse he had come to respect, "The sort of dispensation that is only granted to someone extremely close."

June turned to face the medibot, realization hitting her like a cement truck. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that she's Optimus' significant other?" Her voice just about climbed an octave with incredulity, "Jesus, I can't believe I had a crush on a married 'Bot! You could've told me!"

Ratchet laughed, though not unkindly at the utterly mortified expression on June's face. "Optimus was never a great one for expressing his feelings or discussing his private life for that matter, even when he was Orion Pax."

"Speaking of which," June desperately tried to change the subject, "when do you think my son and Arcee are going to stop tip-toeing around the subject?"

Ratchet glanced back at the retreating femme and her charge, "I believe the two of them care for each other very deeply." He sighed, "As you know the commander has good reason to keep her feelings buried, for the sake of her sanity if nothing else."

June switched off the small air-pump, "I know Ratchet, it's just that when Jack was little I had the usual silly fantasies of him marrying a beautiful girl who'd look after him. By the time he got to high-school, I just hoped whoever he brought back didn't have too many piercings, their tattoos were at least spelt correctly and wasn't a walking S.T.D. clinic. The crazy thing is, after everything that's happened to us, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather see him with."

"Although if they were to acknowledge their feelings, S.T.D.'s would be the least of Jack's problems." Ratchet countered with a faint snicker. "Quite frankly a wanton Arcee would be terrifying, cracked ribs could be a distinct possibility."

June gave him a wicked smile, knowing he was just trying to provoke her, "That's the least of it, potential asphyxia if she forgets that organics need to breath."

Ratchet's brow ridge quirked as he realised he needed to up the ante. "Then there is a whole plethora of issues if they decided to interface, friction burns and penile contusions amongst them."

"I agree Doctor; certain positions would be highly dangerous." June concurred with mock severity, refusing to be outdone. "Missionary only, cowgirl is completely out of the question. I wouldn't want to explain to a consultant exactly how he managed to fracture his pelvis"

"Not to mention the resultant soft-tissue injuries or internal haemorrhaging." Ratchet fired back.

"Plus potential spinal trauma. My poor little boy in traction, with Arcee having to feed him grapes." She retorted with patently fake pathos.

"We would of course have to find a nurse's uniform big enough and persuade her to wear it." Ratchet wiggled his brow ridges in a mocking dirty old man approximation.

"Absolutely." June concluded with a giggle.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Dr. Amber McLaren now had a new paradigm for having a bad day. It had started with masked intruders who'd resembled armed extras from a dodgy European bondage film, breaking into her modest house at stupid o'clock. She'd then been bundled unceremoniously into an anonymous waiting S.U.V. despite threats of dire retribution, before being driven to what she surmised was the middle of Bumphuq, Nevada. She had barely a chance to get her wits together, before she was frog-marched into a waiting unmarked helicopter.

"Can I say how ravishing you look this morning?" A cultured voice inquired as the modified two-tone Bell 222 lifted off. Amber groaned; this was the rancid icing on the super-sized, maggot – infested, triple shit layer cake that her morning had been thus far.

"Dr. West how lovely to see you." Her reply was thick with sarcasm, as she leaned her head against the window. The two were a study in contrasts, Dr. Herbert West looked like always as though he had stepped out of GQ magazine, designer labels, rugged looks, immaculate hair and a jaw almost perfectly geometric in proportion.

The poster child for All-American douchebags, she thought sardonically eyeing up her reflected scowl. She'd just about managed to throw on some clean clothing that was in a pile in the bedroom. Amber knew she looked a mess, attired in what could be charitably described as geek-chic, except at some point the chic had been brutally stabbed and left to die in a ditch. She was just thankful that her glasses somewhat hid the panda rings brought on by overdosing on caffeine and far too many late nights.

Dr. West examined her critically, on the few occasions where she had to make an effort for formal functions; he had to admit she was quite striking. "We're about to meet our benefactors Amber, you might've at least scrubbed up for the meeting."

She fixed him with a drop-dead look, glowering from under a brunette mane restrained only by a well-worn knit-hat. "Dr. West, when armed gimps break into my apartment at the ass-crack of dawn, I guarantee you the last thing on my mind is whether my undies match or I've bikini waxed that day!"

Perhaps it was due to the company but the flight seemed to take forever for her, finally the helicopter slowed to a hover over an abandoned mining facility, the downdraft stirring up the loose earth reducing visibility to near zero. The pair were escorted from the helicopter amongst billowing clouds of dust towards a backlit figure, flanked by two more masked operatives.

As the helicopter lifted off once more and the dust settled, Amber gawked in disbelief at the man standing before her. "Director Bishop, that's a different look." She eventually managed to splutter at the armour and fatigue clad giant in front of her.

"Doctors, I apologise for the rude awakening," Silas stated with a thin smile, "but we're on a very tight schedule."

++!++!++!++!++!++

As he crawled back towards consciousness again, the more rational part of Jack's mind knew he wasn't in one of the ex-military bunks. What was beneath him was far too comfortable and his face was pressed against something that was composite but surprisingly warm. Even so he wished he could hold onto the dream a bit longer, involving a lush boudoir, a sultry, raven-haired beauty and what he swore was an Isaac Hayes' soundtrack.

He blinked a couple of times as his eyes swam into focus in the half-light, with growing panic he realised that there was a double arcing expanse of cerulean armour filling his vision. Tensing, his eyes darted from left to right hoping that he might've been mistaken. The last thing he remembered was sitting on Arcee's berth, as they were discussing what might happen later on that day.

"It's just her fairing." He thought beginning to panic, praying that she wasn't awake. "Just pull away and don't think about it Jack. It's just her fairing, a perfectly proportioned, beautiful piece of engineering that I've buffed on several…oh Jesus. Okay, think about something, anything else. Math homework! What are the standard equations for the geometry of a curve? No! Don't go there! What else? That National Geographic documentary I watched with Mom and Raf, yeah, the Galapagos Islands, open skies, crashing surf, turtles, frigate birds, marine iguanas, blue-footed boo…..fuck!"

"Comfortable there Jack?" Arcee's wry question finally triggered his atavistic instincts. With a yelp he shot backwards away from her, narrowly avoiding the second painful face to floor interface that morning as she grabbed his bedclothes with preternatural reflexes.

Jack forced himself to look up, despite his embarrassing predicament, Arcee had neatly stopped his retreat with one arm whilst propping her head with the other. "Didn't realise my dermal plating was that pleasant." She quipped mischievously. By now the femme was repressing the urge to break into hysterics as Jack appeared to be having the human equivalent of a stack overflow.

"I'msosorryArceeIdidn'tmeantooffendyou!" he gabbled, face lit up like a warning beacon and desperately trying to focus on something other than her. She blinked, looking at him quizzically. Pulling him back into the safety of her berth, an elegant alloy digit gently coerced him to make to eye contact.

"Jack, really? Do I look like I'm offended?" She chuckled, patting the space next to her, "Besides we've been closer than that more often than you think." As he cautiously shuffled back towards her, she could see the evident confusion on his face.

"I'm not a motorcycle Jack; my alt-mode only resembles one superficially." She explained softly, "I was never made to carry passengers or cargo the same way the others were." Jack swallowed nervously, mouth suddenly dry; the implication of what she was saying dawning on him finally.

"Jeez well that puts a whole new spin on things." Jack admitted contritely, "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable, I just didn't think…." He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"I did resent Optimus ordering me to be your guardian, for a while." Arcee admitted with a sigh, "But something changed and I can't even place when. When we first met you were baggage stopping me from kicking 'Con tailpipe. Now, I get pissed at the 'Cons for ruining our quality time together."

"No wonder you got steamed when I tried to offer Sierra a ride." Jack winced inwardly at the memories.

"Now you're catching on partner. Oh and Jack, you still haven't answered my question." Arcee raised a brow ridge as she could practically hear the cogs turning in Jack's head.

"Yes?" Jack scratched the back of his head, praying to any divinity that would listen, that he wasn't in for at best a verbal curb-stomping.

"Good, now get back here, get your head down and rest." Arcee ordered, pointing to the pillow.

"Yes ma'am." Jack replied, scooting closer once more.

"Smart-aft."

++!++!++!++!++!++

Author's note: If you think June and Ratchet's conversation is out of character then you've never heard what medical professionals can be like outside of work (especially if they work in A&E).


	3. Chapter 3

A muchos grassy-arse goes to my beta reader for corrections, suggestions and generally being a cynical, sick, twisted bastich. Welcome gentle readers to chapter 3, now with 150% added giblets. As always reviews and constructive criticism is appreciated.

Cheers,

HTGT.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Transformers Prime: Chimera 03

"If this is some sort of bizarre team-building exercise Director, then colour me unimpressed. There's no way on earth I'm swan-diving backwards at this or any other fucking hour!" Amber needed to trot alongside the striding giant in order to keep up. Silas and his entourage marched briskly towards a large central building in the complex, passing a communications outpost on the way.

"I assure you Dr. McLaren; there'll be no group hugging or bridge building exercises. M.E.C.H. operates with a single unified objective: a new world order based on the acquisition and utilisation of emergent technologies." Silas replied deadpan as they walked. "This is just one of our temporary facilities that we use; we've learned to our cost that having permanent bases can be something of a liability when dealing with our adversaries."

By now Amber was seriously beginning to question the Director's grip on reality, but prudently chose to say nothing. There were a lot of armed personnel and she was quite sure she could disappear out here and no-one would be any the wiser.

An armed guard snapped to attention and opened the door for the party to enter. Inside it was obvious from the height of the roof and the hastily rearranged equipment, that this was the facility's gymnasium. Wheeled flight cases held a mobile server farm, which would've been the envy of many a datacentre. Around the periphery numerous industrial tools lay idle some splattered with faintly luminescent blue stains, whilst masked scientists compared notes and data from orange hued smart terminals. The lighting was subdued, with only the glow of the monitors and the blinking of status L.E.D.'s providing any real illumination.

Amber glanced at Silas as they entered the hive of activity halfway expecting to see him stroking a white cat melodramatically. If it weren't for the obviously armed men around her, the whole thing was faintly ludicrous. As more lights were powered she made out two cargo palettes which had been deposited in the middle of room, but it was what was strapped to them that made her eyes go wide with shock.

"Behold the instruments of our ascension!" Silas stated grandiosely, "Non-terrestrial Mechanical Organisms, possessed with technological superiority far in advance of anything mankind currently fields. They're capable of altering their frames into a vehicular mode, even mimicking earth-based vehicles of similar design and mass. Astounding doctors, quite astounding."

Amber stared agog at the restrained figures, the nearer of the two resembling the unholy bastard offspring of a Cylon warrior and a Cadillac CTS-V coupé. With rising nausea, she realised that it was being systematically vivisected, components being harvested and set aside whilst a faint, plaintive, static wail came from what she could assume was its throat.

"Director, are you seriously suggesting that these are aliens and not some sort of government black project?" Dr. West shook his head incredulously, before regarding the partially dismembered drone with dispassion. "Either way, what you are trying to achieve would be a quantum leap for humanity, if sadly at the expense of few specimens."

Amber looked away from scene in front of her, suddenly feeling quite ill and wishing not for the first time that morning that she were back in bed. On a second palette lay the form of another massive, robotic organism; crimson, origami edged and in no way resembling a wheeled vehicle that she could recognise. She flinched slightly as she noticed twin burning blue irises regarding her, the rest of its lower face hidden by some form of guard.

"I'm glad to see that we are on the same page Dr. West." Silas smiled thinly, "I know that this is a lot of new information for both of you to process, but there are some items of import that require your specialist skills."

"Project Babel," Amber stated flatly, arms crossed. "You want us to decode their language don't you?"

"Precisely Doctor." Silas replied smugly.

Sideswipe onlined his optics carefully, noting that he was securely restrained. Whatever he had been hit with had done a thorough job of scrambling his wits. Mercifully the processor ache had abated and the majority of his systems were back in the green again, he just needed a little while longer to complete the work. He watched coldly as the Decepticon drone was methodically reduced to its constituent parts, still pitifully clinging onto life despite horrendous damage. He had no doubt if he hung around for much longer that he would share the same fate, but he wasn't too worried yet.

Whilst he would sometimes self-deprecatingly remark that he hadn't the fastest processor out of the box, Sideswipe was no idiot. Millennia of pit-fighting had left him with an acute situational awareness, being able to correctly read other fighters separated champions from a brutalised agglomeration of rapidly cooling components. The masked figures were drones, anonymous, unimportant and incapable of swaying matters in his favour.

He then turned his attention to the three figures that came in: the older male in charge was likewise immediately ruled out. Sideswipe had heard such Messianic speeches before, usually by a grey, hulking, shark-toothed, genocidal maniac. That left the two younger humans, the one called Dr. West looked as if he were buying into the whole scenario wholesale. The female however was a different matter, her body language and tone of voice indicated she was agitated, uneasy and stressed. Sideswipe grinned ferally beneath his mouth guard, he had an angle.

++!++!++!++!++!++

The silo felt eerily quiet as Arcee and Jack walked silently from her quarters, the GroundBridge had already been powered up and the whole area smelled like the desert after a thunderstorm. Ratchet turned to face the pair, placing a single digit over what passed for lips before pointing to the still sleeping nurse. Nodding in acknowledgement they made their way through the swirling vortex, swiftly crossing the event horizon. As Jack recovered from the lurching transit disorientation, he realised that he was on a vessel of some description.

The grey baroque design was unmistakably Decepticon in origin, although he was quite sure he wasn't onboard the Nemesis. Up ahead in what he assumed was the cockpit area he could make out three voices, the first two were the unmistakable baritone rumble of Optimus and the belligerent tone of Agent Fowler, the third plummy and unmistakably female.

"Arcee, Jack, thank-you for joining us at such short notice. I realise that you may be fatigued and in sore need of rest, however the situation is graver than we first suspected." Optimus turned to address them as they joined the others.

Jack examined the femme that Optimus had been deep in discussion with, a confident stately beauty with an ornate helm and a wry smile, as if enjoying a private joke at the world's expense. Jack guessed that she was a little bigger than Bumblebee but still was nearly twice as tall as his partner. Breaking off to approach them, she crouched so she would nearer eye-level to the pair.

"Good to see you again commander, thank-you for keeping Optimus in one piece for me." She joked before she turned more solemn, "I also heard about Cliffjumper, he was a damn fine soldier and even better mech."

"Thank-you colonel, as the humans would say water under the bridge now." Arcee replied curtly, trying to keep her expression carefully neutral.

"I assume this dashing young fellow is Master Darby?" Jack felt a little intimidated as she appeared to scrutinise him carefully, "I've heard a lot about you young man, you either have skill or the Devil's own luck from some of the reports I've seen."

"A little from column A, a little from column B and a lot from column 'Cee I think." Jack replied with a crooked smile, gesturing to his smirking partner.

"Now I realise what the commander sees in you. For the record, I owe you a great personal debt for restoring Optimus." She chuckled good-naturedly before rejoining her commanding officer. "Anyway as previously mentioned, getting Sideswipe back is going to be a tad more difficult than we first thought."

"M.E.C.H.'s got some kinda GroundBridge countermeasures running; Ratchet can't get a fix on his position." Fowler chipped in, tell-tale bags under his eyes indicating that he hadn't slept at all. "I'm no scientist but I do know that using that thing blind would be really bad news."

Unbidden Jack imagined bridging in thirty feet off the ground or worse yet, below ground. Feeling slightly queasy he propped himself against one of the consoles, trying to collect his thoughts as the others debated tactics.

"Why not just storm the place?" Arcee suggested, "Hit them hard and fast, spring Sideswipe and evac before they know what's hit them." Agent Fowler nodded in agreement, anything that would get this over with quickly was looking increasingly tempting, collateral damage be damned.

"Good suggestion commander, teeny-tiny problem with that. The bastards know we'd try it." Elita replied, "I had another communiqué from this Silas chap. I'll give him this, he's prepared and he knows he has a limited timescale." She fiddled with some of the icons on the display in front of her, replaying the recorded message.

"N.T.M.O.'s your compatriot is now the property of M.E.C.H. If you attempt any form of rescue, he will be terminated with extreme prejudice. Once we have what we require, a further message will be broadcast as to where you may retrieve him. He will be alive, but naturally we cannot guarantee how whole he'll be."

"A bit of an embuggerance don't you think?" Elita sighed in frustration, "Can't bridge in to extract, can't take the complex by force and we sure as Pit can't leave him there to be picked apart! Still, for the sake of diplomatic relations and Agent Fowler's blood pressure I'll try reasoning with them."

"Good luck with that." Fowler muttered darkly.

Elita sat back down and began scanning frequencies, after a while she thought she'd homed in on a likely candidate. After a few attempts to establish contact and some strained pleasantries, the line went quite before a horribly familiar voice boomed over the speakers.

"Ah, the pilot of the vessel we were intercepting, to what do we owe the pleasure of this call?" Silas intoned menacingly, "We have already stated our terms which are non-negotiable."

"I understand that, Silas is it? However for the sake of your organisation I would strongly reconsider. If you release him now into a neutral location, we can simply go our separate ways without further unpleasantness." Elita replied icily, "You have locked yourselves in a confined environment with someone that has spent millennia honing his skills to become the most proficient killer possible. Whatever restraints you believe you have in place, will fail. Whatever measures you have taken, will be inadequate. He will escape. Then he will hunt you and your men down and slaughter you."

"I very much doubt your precious Optimus would allow such a beast amongst his ranks." Silas replied calmly, "As you said a little while ago my dear, I'm afraid I'll have to decline your kind offer."

Elita ended the link and turned to the rest of the group, shrugging nonchalantly. "They're all dead." She stated flatly.

"A worthy attempt Elita, however I fear that Silas like Megatron is not predisposed to finding peaceful resolutions." Optimus commented sagely, "If we cannot sway him with words, then sadly we are forced to act. Humanity is not yet ready for the advances that our technology might bring and I refuse to allow the wholesale butchery of Cybertronians, Autobot and Decepticon alike. At this late hour, any and all suggestions are welcome."

Arcee glanced down at her partner, who appeared to only be half-listening to proceedings. She recognised the pensive expression on his face; he was definitely mulling something over. Eventually she saw he had reached some form of conclusion, looking up at her for support. She gave him an encouraging smile and a quick nod, indicating he should speak up.

"I've got an idea, but you're not going to like it." He stated somewhat hesitantly, "Oh and for the love of God please don't tell Mom, she'll freak."

"I'm all ears kid, what's the gameplan?" Fowler interjected.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Silas handed the field telephone back to an aide and rejoined the others. "It appears that the precautions we have taken were prudent. By all accounts we have a very dangerous individual here if the pilot is to be believed." He gestured to a plethora of recording equipment and sensor arrays around the captive. "As you can see Dr. McLaren we have set up almost an exact duplicate of your lab with one notable exception. We are trying to decrypt a spoken language instead of a written one."

An aide handed her a tablet and a Bluetooth headset, the application looked familiar enough. It was one she had helped design and implement at the Institute to look for patterns in the strange texts she had been tasked to study. The only addition seemed to be some form of advanced speech to text functionality. She looked at the last recording on the tablet and the translation made her stomach churn.

"Was this the other one?" She asked quietly as the words "Kill me…" were repeated over again on the screen in line with the spectrum display.

"I wouldn't feel too bad about it." Silas replied looking at the tablet unemotionally, "If it's any consolation that drone would have no qualms in killing any of us if the tables were turned. Leaving the two doctors temporarily he walked briskly over to the other area.

"Which reminds me, terminate the drone, prepare the carcass for disassembly and package any notable material for immediate despatch." He ordered brusquely. A large forklift was ushered in and within moments the still twitching drone had been mercifully removed. Five minutes later a bare area remained, the only evidence of it ever being there were tell-tale energon spatters. Personnel swiftly vacated the gymnasium, loading the equipment and harvested parts into awaiting trucks.

"Don't let them do it." Amber was brought back to reality by a transmission from the restrained giant appearing on the tablet. "You're better than this."

"What did it say?" Herbert peered over the tablet, lip curling in sardonic amusement, "How droll it's begging for its life." They suddenly cried out in alarm and jumped backwards as the figure suddenly growled, straining against its restraints and fixing Herbert with a murderous stare.

"It! I have a [unknown] and [unknown] you greasy little [faecal matter?] stain." Although the tablet application was struggling to find translations, the overall message was clear. "Call me it one more time you [endogamous?] [fellator?] [immediate family members?] and I swear to [unknown] once I break out of here I'll rip off your [unknown] and ram it up your [rectal passage?]!"

Amber blinked as she took in the stream of what she assumed was invective and couldn't help but smile slightly. "Congratulations, you managed to piss him off. For what it's worth I also think he's an excellent judge of character." She was pretty sure that if these organisms did indeed have sexual or gender differences she'd got it right.

"Well since it's love at first sight I'll leave you two alone then." Dr. West sniffed, trying to salvage some wounded pride before making his way to join Silas.

"So, what's a nice [female?] doing in a [faecal matter?]hole like this?" Amber blinked at the words incredulously, was this machine trying to chat her up?

"Long story, it's been just about the worst day of my life." She sighed, "I wake up to armed goons, have to spend a good portion of the morning in close proximity to that self-absorbed prick. Finally to round everything off, I find out the man sponsoring my research is a megalomaniacal human supremacist with plans for a Newer World Order."

Sideswipe looked down at his bound form, "Trade you? Fought my way out of an [enemy?] outpost, had to jump from a perfectly serviceable [fucking?] shuttle and ended up having my [posterior?] shot out from under me. Look sweet[heart?] I don't want to be here, you sure as [hell?] don't want to be here. You get where I'm going with this…" He suddenly trailed off as he saw Silas returning from overseeing the load-out, Herbert in tow.

"Doctor I see you've made some progress with the "Red Knight" as we call this specimen. I would suggest you learn as much as you can about its language over the next hour." Silas hinted darkly, "After that regrettably we might have to cut your research short. Dr. West if you'd like to follow me to the plant bays; we have some items that I'm sure will pique your interest."

"Okay I'm now officially scared out of my fucking mind!" Amber stated to no-one in particular, "I'm in. Just get me the hell out of here!" She typed rather than spoke to avoid any operatives overhearing her.

"Glad to have you on board. All I need from you is to get these [fucking?] bindings off; I'll take care of the rest." Amber's eyes were drawn to the giant's hands which were bound by heavy-duty, code-locked cuffs. Putting on her best attempt at a winning smile, she approached one of the masked figures.

"Excuse-me, in order to ensure extraneous noise doesn't corrupt my data I'm going to have to get closer to the subject. How secure are those bindings exactly?" She asked as innocently as she could.

The goon waved to a two man crew manning a sophisticated energy weapon, with practised ease they brought it to bear on the recumbent Autobot. Sideswipe froze, recalling a similar design of weapon being mounted on the aircraft that had knocked him for six.

"The bindings are single-press lock and deactivated by a 16 digit alphanumeric code that rotates on a daily basis. The materials have been stress tested to hold something far more powerful." The operative swiftly keyed in the digits to deactivate them, before relocking them again. Once satisfied that they were secure, the weapon's team stood down, not wishing any kind of accidental discharge that would fry the delicate scientific equipment in the room.

"Thank-you for putting my mind at ease." She smiled as the operative walked off to rejoin his comrades. "Sucker…." She whispered, turning back to Sideswipe she looked at him smugly.

"f7ucruf9p8UCuWre, piece of cake." She was rewarded by his optics going wide with surprise and brow ridges practically disappearing under his helm. "I live, breath, eat and shit codes." She explained, "The only problem now, is how the fuck I'm going to key that in without being shot."

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Are you out of your fragging mind Jack?" Arcee shouted, "Optimus, I can't believe you would even consider the idea. It's suicidal!" Jack rolled his eyes as he braced himself for the expected rant from his irate partner. He knew full well that she'd react this way, but trying to get a word in edgeways when she was in full flow would be impossible. He just let the tirade wash over him, mentally counting her arguments.

"You haven't been trained in infiltration…What'd happen if you got caught?…Enemy fire...Friendly-fire…You're not a combatant…" Jack started counting them off on his fingers for emphasis, finally waiting for her to run out of steam.

"Feel better for that? It's okay partner, you can just say you're worried about me and have done with it." Jack teased.

"I thought that was painfully obvious." She huffed back, arms crossed and looking highly unimpressed. Elita looked at her curiously, never seeing her quite so protective before.

"Okay let's address those points shall we? Firstly I don't need to fool them long, just long enough to take down whatever's scrambling the GroundBridge locator thing. Soon as that happens the cavalry comes charging in. Secondly, if Sideswipe does get loose I'll do what I do best. Run screaming like a little girl as far away from the rampaging death engine as I can get. Chances are he'll make short work of whatever countermeasures M.E.C.H. has." He half-joked.

"Arcee, I understand your feelings towards your charge but Jack has provided the most viable plan thus far. I acknowledge that his stratagem is not without grave risks, but the alternatives are graver still." Optimus intoned.

"Do you think you can succeed?" Elita asked him pointedly.

"Ma-am, I've been through worse." Jack attempted to draw himself up, "I know I can do this."

"Okay son, what do you need?" Fowler asked, praying that the audacious plan worked.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"So do you have a name, or should I keep calling you the Red Knight?" Amber tried her best to make light conversation with the bound robot next to her; all the while her mind was racing. The masked goons would patrol every so often, checking up on her work.

"[Sideswipe?]" He replied. Amber looked at the one-word answer somewhat perplexed and repeated the translation back to him. He nodded in affirmation, "It's a designation rather than an actual name, which is almost [fucking?] impossible to say in your language."

"I'm Dr. Amber McLaren." She replied with a genuine smile, patting his arm."You know after everything that's happened I get to make contact with a member of an alien species, who hates that preening shitbag as much as I do."

Sideswipe smirked from behind his guard, the last of his sub-systems were back in the green and all he had to do was wait. Out of idle curiosity he sent out an I.F.F. ping to see what sort of activity was in the area and was shocked to have a return on a known Autobot frequency.

Using the cover of the load-out a lone trench-coated agent slipped inside the gymnasium to take up watch with the others. He could see his target in conversation with an attractive brunette scientist; however he could only assume she was working for M.E.C.H.

"Me and my bright fucking ideas!" Jack thought sardonically as he sweated profusely inside the uniform. Although tall enough to pass as one of the goons, his lanky frame would've eventually have given him away. The quickest solution involved him wearing multiple layers, however this combined with the armour and trench-coat had left him baking inside his own personal oven. He was also pretty sure that Arcee had taken a permanent record of his humiliation to show his mother and Miko, after she'd stopped laughing at his resemblance to a gimp version of the Pillsbury Doughboy.

"So Amber, do you believe in miracles?" Sideswipe's question caught her slightly off guard.

"I'm not sure I follow you." She responded, looking quizzically from the tablet to him.

"See that guy in the corner, just walked in through the main doors. He pings as a friendly, get him over here." Sideswipe explained.

Jack's heart froze as the scientist approached him, "You there, would you mind helping me move some equipment please."

"Sure." Jack tried his best to voice the confidence that was draining out of him as fast as his electrolytes. When he arrived at the bound Autobot a single question was visible on Amber's tablet.

"Who sent you?"

"Optimus." Jack tapped back. "M.E.C.H. has something in place stopping us from bridging in." Another agent started to approach them as part of his rounds.

"It's okay I got this." Jack tried to deepen his voice slightly, hoping that none of the agents would cotton on to the fact he was an imposter.

"Thanks buddy!" the agent moved back to cover the rest of area, sounding grateful that he didn't have to babysit the scientist. Jack subtly positioned himself to obscure Amber as she swiftly deactivated the cuffs. Walking slowly around the palette he was contemplating how to loosen the strapping, when the strident blare of a klaxon almost made him shit a brick. The main lighting shut off almost immediately, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

"Confirmation of N.T.M.O. gate activity! Multiple hostiles inbound all weapon crews to defensive stations." One of the goons shouted, before pointing to Jack, "You! Maintain watch on Red Knight and engage any hostiles."

"Yes sir!" Jack bellowed back, trying not to laugh hysterically with relief as the crew manning a vicious looking energy weapon broke it down in record time before sprinting for the exit.

"Ah they're playin' my song!" Sideswipe laughed, shrugging off the cuffs and ripping through the webbing restraints like tissue paper. He flexed and vaulted fluidly onto his feet, mouth guard retracting.

"What the fuck!" Amber looked dumbfounded, "You know English? How? What's with the accent?" She spluttered as her brain frantically tried to process what she'd just heard.

"Sorry Amber, 'ad to make sure we weren't overheard." He apologised with a shrug, bouncing from foot to foot like a cage fighter limbering up. "Anyway you two find cover, get down, stay down and don't come out till I say so."

Jack pulled the mask off with a sigh of relief, face beet red from the accumulated heat. "Running away, that I can do. Although being shot would be merciful right now, I'm dying in here. Sorry I'm Jack by the way."

Sideswipe gave him a lupine grin, "Heh, the Boy Wonder. Nice to put a face to a name. Don't wish to be rude, but get the frag out of here unless you enjoy seein' wall to wall claret!"

"Let's go Boy Wonder; I do not want to be around when those guys get back! Dr. Amber McLaren by the way." She hollered over the din. The pair of them sprinted for one of the exits as the emergency lights came on, bathing the area in a hellish glow.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Status report!" Silas roared into his comm. link as the lights went out and the red emergency ones guttered into life. Herbert looked around in a panic as the klaxons blared, looking for something to duck behind.

"Multiple aerial hostiles inbound, defensive perimeter established, Red Knight is…." A crackling voice answered confidently, before a metallic thud and sickening cracks overwhelmed the link.

"Report soldier!" Silas barked, trying to maintain control of the situation. There was static for several long seconds before a choking gurgle replied, "…is…loose." The link went dead for what seemed an eternity, before the distinctive whine of Cybertronian servos were audible.

"You made two mistakes Silas." A gravelly voice stated, "Capturin' me was your first, thinkin' you could ever, ever confine me was your last. Fair warnin' pal, if you have a god make peace, I'm comin' for ya."

Silas assessed his options for a moment as Elita's warning came back to haunt him. "Load all items for immediate evac." He ordered curtly, "Dr. West you're coming with me, it pains me to say this but Dr. McLaren may have to make her own travel arrangements."

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Jack swore, trying his utmost not to greet his breakfast for the second time that morning. He'd seen Sideswipe explode from the confines of the gymnasium, lobbing the cuffs at the nearest group of operatives. The spinning chain had scythed a path of destruction, practically bisecting several of them in a welter of viscera and smashed bone. The angular mech had stalked up to the carnage, bent over one of the agents for a moment before methodically executing any survivors.

A small whimper made him glance backwards. Amber was white as a sheet and petrified, the tell-tale quivering of her lips indicating that she was on the verge of breaking-down. Cursing his own stupidity, he took her hand a pulled her back the way they came. Once inside the building he got her to hunker down behind some stacked crash mats.

"Stay here, I'm going to get some help. Trust me, it'll be okay." Jack said soothingly, trying to calm her. Amber simply nodded, too thoroughly frightened to even argue anymore.

Dashing back though the open door, he ditched the trench-coat revealing a disposable L.A.W. strapped to his back. Pulling headset from his pocket, he jammed it in place and activated it.

"Sideswipe's out, can you confirm that there are any humans in the outpost." He shouted over the din of battle.

"I can tell by the mess." Came Elita's laconic reply, "No-one in the outpost, looks like they have their hands full dealing with 'Cons and Sideswipe!"

"Tell Fowler we have a complication, a civilian scientist called Dr. Amber McLaren. She doesn't appear to be connected to M.E.C.H. but have him check her background." Jack yelled as he scrambled towards the outpost, hoping that the L.A.W. was as idiot-proof as Fowler claimed.

++!++!++!++!++!++

In the plant yard, matters had devolved into a three-way firefight between M.E.C.H. agents, Vehicons and Sideswipe. Although to be truthful, it was more a two-way firefight with the humans being collateral damage.

The former gladiator had found the yard to be delightful source of improvised weaponry. Watching a drone frantically trying to claw its way out of a rock-crusher as it was slowly being ground into scrap was his favourite so far. He'd had to up the pace a little as the humans had regrouped and were attempting to get beads on both factions with their crew-served weapons.

Still there was nothing like some nice gentle exercise to get the energon pumping, by gentle meaning systematically kicking a drone to death whilst beating its faceplate flat with a silo lid. Every so often he'd pause, whilst almost casually picking off M.E.C.H. agents, his energon cannon vapourising armour and tissue with equal ease. Over the sirens, the screams of the wounded and dying were evident. Some having their armour and masks fused to their skin, other's clutching bloody or cauterised stumps that used to be limbs.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Fire in the hole!" Jack yelled over the link as the unguided rocket streaked away towards its target. He watched in equal parts shock and awe as the outpost blossomed into a fireball of rubble and debris. A short distance away, Sideswipe paused from his handiwork to give him a cheery wave before recommencing.

He was shocked out of his reverie by the tell-tale thud of helicopter blades from behind the plant bays. A suspiciously familiar transport helicopter was lifting off, no doubt carrying Silas and his officers. His eyes narrowed as he wished that he'd brought something more suitable against aircraft as well.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Pity." Silas intoned without any real emotion behind it. "It appears that Dr. McLaren hasn't been able to evacuate the facility. Her contribution to the cause will be noted and it will be something of a difficulty to replace her."

Herbert sighed, he had managed to get out with the director and several large canisters engraved with eldritch runic symbols. They appeared to be somewhat similar to the language they were studying but there appeared to be subtle differences. As the helicopter made its way into the cool Nevada morning, he paid his former colleague no mind as he turned his attention to the puzzle before him.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Amber had finally broken down in tears after Jack had left, even if she did survive she'd no idea where she was or how she would get back to civilisation. Worse still, if Director Bishop found out she was still alive, would she just simply vanish one day. These thoughts were chasing each other round her mind, when a familiar voice called out.

"Dr. McLaren? It's me, Jack. You can come out now." Shakily she emerged from her hiding place; alongside the teenager was a smaller robotic organism. Obviously female, she was a slender ethereal beauty that looked like a Venosa painting come to life.

"You took a Pit of a risk there partner." Her voice although exasperated, contained a great deal of affection for the young man.

"Amber this is my partner Arcee. Arcee this is Dr. Amber McLaren, she's the one responsible for springing Sideswipe." Jack explained as best he could over the din.

"Fowler's going to want to talk to her, best get the both of you back." She groused, transforming into an azure ZX-10, "Hop on you've had far too much action for one day Jack!"

"Yes Mom!" Jack replied sardonically as they climbed aboard, Amber still slightly agog at what she'd just witnessed.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Outside the battle was dying down, the intervention of the other Autobots had turned the tide against the remaining drones. Realising that perhaps discretion was the better part of valour, they had simply turn tail and fled. Sideswipe retracted his arm-blade from where it had gotten stuck on a particularly stubborn piece of internal structure. The gutted Vehicon flopped to the ground, energon pooling around his tyres.

Turning back to the gymnasium once more he made out the familiar form of Arcee threading her way through the carnage to the evacuation point. Almost immediately after, a lone M.E.C.H. agent made a kamikaze dash for one of the last tripod mounted weapons at the gymnasium entrance.

Sideswipe broke out into a run; use of his cannon here would be lethal to Arcee's passengers with the amount of spilt energon, along with other man-made volatiles. The agent had almost made it when Sideswipe caught up with him.

"They think it's all over." He growled, his right foot executing a perfect half-volley, pulping internal organs and splintering bones. The former goon, now meat-sack sailed in an exquisite parabolic arc before crashing against the baseboard of one of the gymnasium's basketball hoops. A torrent of blood and glass rained onto the parquet floor before the corpse plopped grotesquely through the hoop, hanging there like a broken rag-doll.

"It is now!" Sideswipe stated with a satisfied air.

++!++!++!++!++!++


	4. Chapter 4

First of all, many apologies for the wait for chapter 4, being made redundant and job hunting have a tendency to focus the mind on real life. Many thanks for the reviews so far, keep them coming. If any of you would like an idea of what Sideswipe in this universe might look like I commissioned a piece from Sara Milton (you can find this work on deviantART, just look up G1 Sideswipe concept). Another muchos grassy-arse to my proof-reader who has and is providing valuable input on the inevitable vehicle chases. Again reviews appreciated and I promise more screen time to established characters next chapter.

Cheers,

HTGT

11/09/2012 – Edited thanks to an eagle-eyed spot by I'm Yu that managed to sneak past both myself and my proof-reader.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Sideswipe and Ratchet emerged from the medical bay, the former shifting uncomfortably from wheel to wheel and wincing every few steps. For some reason the CMO looked strangely disappointed as they re-joined the other Autobots.

"Was the sump-probe absolutely fraggin' necessary?" The former gladiator complained as he gingerly approached the others.

"I had to be absolutely sure you were not an imposter." Ratchet retorted with a snort, "Which you are not…sadly."

Elita to her credit was trying her best to keep a smirk off her face, "You should have seen the size of the dipstick he used Sideswipe." She remarked, intimating with her hands the length and girth of the instrument involved, "You took it like a mech." She finished patting his shoulder comfortingly.

"Can I 'ave my treat now mum?" Sideswipe sniffled back mockingly like an overgrown youngling.

Behind the pair a hazmat suited figure of Nurse Darby emerged, heading towards the decontamination showers. Although her face was obscured by the hood, her body posture suggested that she'd just experienced something that would take a double-dose of brain-bleach and an angle grinder to help her forget. In a pinch however, several large rum and cokes would have to suffice. Despite everyone's best efforts, she had managed to ascertain what her errant son had been up to with almost contemptuous ease and had given him a dressing down, that in Elita's mind would've put the fear of Primus in Megatron himself.

"Now that your identities have been verified your first priority is to acquire an Earth-based alt-mode. Then Elita we must discuss Autobot chain of command going forward." Optimus intoned with a hint of pride. His sparkmate had insisted on a full medical examination despite the fact he already knew through their bond that she was not an imposter. It was one of the many reasons why he loved and valued her, she carte blanche refused to have the soldiers under her charge undergo anything she wouldn't be prepared to do herself.

"I have already drawn up a shortlist based on mass, size and protoform mechanics." Ratchet stated somewhat sheepishly, "However as much as it pains me to say so, I may need some human input on the finer aesthetic criteria."

"Can I believe what I'm hearin', the all-knowin' Ratchet admittin' he needs assistance?" Sideswipe jibed with an air of incredulity, relishing the opportunity for revenge however limited.

"Nurse Darby, please remind me to have the Prime sized dipstick on standby the next time Sideswipe has a routine medical." Ratchet replied ominously as a shudder went through her at the implication.

"I honestly can say that's the first time I've ever been glad to see a Vehicon." Jack interrupted suddenly, allowing his mother to at least get cleaned up without potentially any further psychological trauma.

"Soundwave is efficient, if somewhat predictable." Elita replied somewhat cryptically. Jack suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that she'd known all along that the Decepticons would show, but had conveniently omitted to mention that fact.

In another part of the outpost, a bone-tired and strung-out Agent Fowler was trying to piece together Amber's story. She had spent the first few minutes violently throwing-up to the point of doing a passable impression of James Brown in the dry-heaving stage.

"Look Agent Fowler, I don't know how many times I have to repeat the same story. As far as I knew I was working on an unknown possible protolanguage, I had no idea that Director Bishop had Blofeld syndrome or that I would be coming into contact with giant fucking alien robots! Look I know where this is going, if you're going to throw me in a deep, dark hole can it at least have Internet and a comfy bed. I really, really need to sleep."

Fowler blinked a few times as he realised that they'd been at completely crossed purposes for the last few minutes. "I didn't say that I didn't believe you Dr. McLaren." He stated bluntly, "We just need to get the facts straight, for your own safety if nothing else. I'm going to recommend that we take you into protective custody; you've got the lowdown on one of M.E.C.H.'s projects which makes you valuable. Secondly you've almost managed to decode an alien language single-handedly, that makes you an asset."

"There's more Agent Fowler." Amber sighed, "I know Leland Bishop personally, he and my father were close friends going way back. There's a chance he could be at risk too."

"What in the name of James K. Polk's gallstone have I done to deserve this?" Fowler grumbled under his breath as he mulled over his next course of action. Something was nagging in the back of his brain, the woman was familiar but in his sleep-deprived state he just couldn't place her.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"I trust you have an explanation for your complete and abject failure." On board the Nemesis a visibly quivering silver mech was doing his level best to hide behind his superior; a black and white scout who was considerably better at meeting Megatron's psychotic glare.

"We were ambushed my lord!" The silver one snivelled, "We were outnumbered, outgunned!"

"Silence wretch!" Megatron then addressed his compatriot directly, "I left you in command of the outpost Barricade, I also trusted you not only with an energon supply-chain but with the removal of valuable artefacts." He leant towards the smaller Decepticon, "I'm awaiting your justification Barricade and for the sake of your continued existence it had better be good."

Barricade forced himself to meet Megatron's red-eyed stare, "My mistake was leaving Sideways in charge of load-out my liege. We were not outnumbered or outgunned, but outclassed. I have provided Soundwave with all the intel we managed to salvage from the altercation."

The silent spymaster took this as his cue to replay the footage obtained from the scout. It showed feeds from two perspectives, Elita calmly striding her way towards one of the shuttle bays, methodically and precisely slaying any hapless drone that crossed her path. By way of comparison Sideswipe was running interference, pulling as many of the Decepticon forces away from their objective into another hangar which was rapidly becoming a mechanical abattoir.

Megatron observed the on-screen carnage with a degree of grudging admiration, "The Prime's sparkmate and her pit bull, it appears you may have just earned clemency Barricade, for the time being at least. Retrieve the shuttle and its contents and bring her to me."

"Understood my liege." The scout turned smartly and left the command deck, dragging a protesting Sideways with him.

"Do you believe they stand a chance my lord?" Dreadwing rumbled after they had left.

"Barricade is one of my best scouts and if they fail, then they will stand as examples to other Decepticons."

++!++!++!++!++!++

"So, mind telling me what Jack was doing in your quarters last night?" Having finally got out of the decontamination shower, June had managed to corner Arcee. She'd been somewhat elusive since the mission and the canny nurse was certain she was avoiding her on purpose.

Arcee blinked a couple of the times at her rather pointed question, deciding finally to give her a somewhat doctored version of the truth. "Sorry June he crashed out on my berth, didn't have the heart to wake him." It was slick, practised, rehearsed and perhaps just a little too glib.

"Right." June drew out the word with the flat expression that implied she didn't believe a word of it. "What were you up to that could've possibly gotten him so exhausted?" she probed impishly.

"June, nothing happened!" Arcee bristled, back struts twitching in irritation before she strode off to prevent her from seeing the tell-tale bluing of her face.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Ratchet commented wryly from his usual position.

"I'd be inclined to agree Doctor." June admitted with a cheeky smile, "I'll get the truth out of them one way or the other."

"I have no doubt you will." The medibot chuckled knowing full well how stubborn the nurse could be over certain things.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Agent Fowler escorted Amber back into the main section of the base leaving her to finally succumb to mercifully dreamless sleep. Jack had propped himself in one of the few available chairs after a shower and getting enough sleep to scrub off the worst of his fatigue.

"How is she?" He asked, addressing both his mother and agent.

"Apart from shock and fatigue, not doing too badly." June replied, "Rest and a decent meal will help."

"You did well Jack." Fowler clapped the boys shoulder appreciatively, "I need to go and sort-out the clean-up crew and track down pops. There goes my weekend! The only thing I've got left to look forward to is an ulcer and divorce if I'm lucky!" He complained bitterly before gesturing to the sleeping scientist. "She stays here until further notice, understood?"

After the agent was safely out of earshot, Optimus gathered the present Autobots. "Ratchet prepare the GroundBridge for immediate departure, we must recover anything that may have been reverse-engineered from Cybertronian technology. I for one am most concerned about the pulse weapon that M.E.C.H. has developed."

"Too fraggin' right Optimus! Felt worse than an 8-pack of super-hi-grade and an aft-kicking!" Sideswipe added vehemently.

++!++!++!++!++!++

A few hours later in a quiet suburb of Henderson Nevada, an unremarkable panel van bearing the logo of Nevada Auto-parts Deliveries and Supplies pulled up alongside an equally non-descript single-storied house. Parked outside was an AMC Gremlin, which at one stage in its life had been a vibrant bronze but had long-since faded to a shade commonly known as dysentery brown. Various panels and bumpers were held on by a combination of duct-tape, zip ties and probable divine intervention.

A young man exited from the passenger side sliding door, package in hand, making his way toward the entrance. He was somewhat surprised to find the front door unlocked but cautiously made his way inside. Had the older man inside the van been concentrating more on the house rather than on his lunch, he would've briefly heard the sounds of a scuffle before silence reigned once more.

Finishing his cheeseburger with a belch, he lobbed the empty packaging on the dashboard then proceeded to chug his extra-large soda with gusto. Several minutes later he finally decided to check on his errant companion and was somewhat perturbed to find him slumped unconscious in the bathroom, with what looked very suspiciously like a broken nose.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Goddammit June, get the hell out of my way!" Amber glared daggers at the older woman who so far had steadfastly refused to let her leave the base. The rest of the Autobots besides Optimus and Ratchet had bridged aboard the acquired Decepticon shuttle with their respective charges in tow, eager to help the new arrivals with their shopping expedition.

"Sorry, Fowler's orders, we need to keep you here until we can locate your father and get him to safety. Please try to relax; we're doing everything we can." June met the scientist's gaze levelly, her years of training enabling her to be pleasant, non-threatening yet assertive.

"You don't understand, dad's ex-Agency, if he feels like he's being watched or if M.E.C.H. makes a move, he'll just go to ground. I'm the best chance you have of finding him!" Amber pleaded with her, "Look if I can't leave then at least let me get a message to him securely."

"Agent Fowler is not going to be pleased." Ratchet interjected with a wicked gleam in his optics, already imagining the response. "Best we tell him sooner rather than later."

"I concur old friend; Agent Fowler would wish to know this information, even if we may never hear the end of it." Optimus added dryly. "Ratchet, open a secure communications channel with The Pentagon."

++!++!++!++!++!++

The diner was packed with the usual crowd, pensioners, workmen and even the occasional tourist who'd taken the wrong turning or was looking to get away from Vegas for something a little quieter. A solitary middle-aged man in a grey windcheater sat in one corner, seemingly engrossed in the morning paper and coffee. A more shrewd observer would've noted that he'd positioned himself to view all possible entrances and exits. Every so often he would check his phone before returning to the paper. Finally his patience was rewarded when his phone started to vibrate, leaving enough change behind to cover the cheque he moved swiftly to a more secluded part of the diner.

"Dad it's me." A worried female voice blurted as soon as he picked up.

"Amber I need you to stay focused," he replied, voice low and calm, "just answer my questions with as much detail as you can. Are you currently safe?"

"I'm unharmed and in protective Federal custody at an undisclosable location." She replied, trying to reassure her father without accidentally giving away too much information.

"Six hours ago, two armed operatives broke into my office and attempted to abduct me. They carried no ID and were highly trained; I assume this is connected to the reason why our home was likewise broken into and why you're in custody?"

"Yes they're a terrorist organisation connected to the Institute that I worked for." Amber replied, trying to keep her voice level. "That'll teach you to bunk-down at work instead of coming home for the evening."

The older man chuckled slightly, "Well at least it's not drugs or vice I suppose. It appears from the echo at your end that you're on a speaker-phone?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." She replied. Comparing the Autobot communication link to a speaker-phone was like comparing a 10-speed to a superbike. Superficially both have a similar function, except one is an order of magnitude more complex than the other.

"To whoever has my daughter in custody, you have already endangered her life by sending Agency members to our residence earlier today. The operation in my professional opinion was crass and may well have alerted the enemy to the Agency's presence. As a sign of good faith I expect you to meet me at a location of my choosing in ninety minutes, I will send you the details. In the meantime Amber, I'm going to have another coffee and they tell me the cherry pie here is excellent. I love you, stay safe."

"Love you too dad." Amber replied.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Okay ladies first!" Miko cast a critical eye over the video feed from a cloaked reconnaissance drone as it scoured several Las Vegas prestige vehicle dealerships. Two other screens provided readouts of the Elita's and Sideswipe's protoforms along with vehicle identification. Ratchet had delegated the job of ensuring a good match to Raf and the teenager was taking his job very seriously.

"Bentley Continental GT, excellent protoform compatibility according to Ratchet's application." Raf suggested.

"Yeah, but it's butt-ugly and it'd make Elita look well kinda chunky." Miko shot back, trying her best to imitate a Sumo wrestler. "We need feminine curves Raf, next contender!"

"Move on please Rafael, that particular specimen is somewhat vulgar." Elita agreed, looking at her projected image with a frown.

"Maserati GranTurismo MC Stradale, curves in all the right places, Italian, stylish, sexy…" Miko batted her eyelashes in a coquettish fashion.

"…and also Knock Out's choice of alt-mode." Jack interjected dead-pan. Elita looked horrified whilst Sideswipe had an expression of unholy glee as he squirreled away that particular nugget of information.

"Sweet Primus no! Next choice for the sake of everyone's sanity!" Elita exclaimed, "Oh and Sideswipe don't go getting any ideas, this is no time and place for vendettas!"

"Wouldn't dream of it Elita." Sideswipe rolled his optics, attempted to look innocent and failed miserably.

"Right next suggestion." Miko was intently watching the feed when something caught her eye, "Raf get the drone to fly over there."

"Oh my, I think we may have found a winner." Elita breathed as she examined the choice in question, "Do you think Optimus would approve?" She asked the assembled crowd with a sly smile.

"I think Optimus would pop a gasket if you chose that." Bulkhead slurred somewhat bluntly, Bumblebee beeping in agreement with a concerned glance at his comrade. Although well on the road to recovery, he still required periodic medication which left him somewhat woozy.

Arcee smirked at the taller femme, "Do it Elita that is very, very you."

"Okay that's one down and one to go!" Miko crowed. "Now it's Mr Stabby McWheelfeet's turn, anything in particular you're looking for?"

Sideswipe looked thoughtful for a moment, "Fast, preferably red, not too small and angles." He concluded with a grin at the teen.

"You forgot loud and flashy." Arcee quipped to the crimson mech's chagrin.

"Fast, angles, loud and flashy. Piece…of…cake!" Miko stated triumphantly as the drone went on another sweep.

++!++!++!++!++!++

A beep on Amber's phone indicated that she had an SMS. She looked at the series of numbers and appeared deep in thought for a moment.

"Why doesn't he just tell us where to meet him, without any means of deciphering these numbers are meaningless?" Ratchet snapped.

"Except he already gave us two hints." Amber replied smugly, "The first is that he's in or around a diner. Knowing what dad's like he wouldn't have taken Old Faithless as it's too noticeable, which means he must be still in the Las Vegas or Henderson area."

"There must be hundreds of diners in that area, where then do you suggest we start?" The curmudgeonly Autobot fired back, hoping to get one over on the human.

"Simple. Divide or multiply these numbers by 355 over 113, they're probably coordinates of some description." She pulled out the pad that she had been given in the M.E.C.H. base and began tapping away. "That fraction is the best approximation of Pi to six decimal places. Dad would always say that if he had to give us something in code for any reason, the key would be in the penultimate sentence. Notice how his pauses were slightly longer, just to spell it out?"

Ratchet nodded in understanding as he began feeding in the numbers and variables into the outpost's mainframe, then parsing the results as known coordinate types. "I think it would be better if I did the number crunching from here on in." He stated shortly. After several tense moments a reference was obtained in the Henderson area.

"Let's see what that is on the map. Oh look a diner; what would you do without me boys?" Amber looked at the two Autobots with a somewhat self-satisfied grin.

Optimus turned to his Chief Medical Officer before he could engage in any more verbal brinkmanship. "Have we had a response from Agent Fowler?"

"It appears he is in a meeting that may last quite some time." Ratchet replied with a shrug.

"As loath as I am to go against his wishes, it appears the only chance to get Amber's father to safety is to do as he suggests. Amber, you are aware that this may place you in harm's way once more?" Optimus looked at the scientist, who now appeared somewhat more nervous.

"I am, but it's my fault he's in this situation and this is the quickest way to get him out of it." She replied, sounding a lot more confident than she actually felt.

Optimus opened a secure channel to the shuttle, "Elita have you and Sideswipe picked appropriate Earth-based vehicle modes?"

"Impeccable timing Optimus, we've just finished in fact and I can't wait to show mine off." Elita replied somewhat flirtatiously with a throaty chuckle. Behind him both Ratchet and June struggled to keep their professional demeanours intact as the Prime looked for an instant like someone had just sucker-punched him.

++!++!++!++!++!++

So far the operation had been relatively easy, Soundwave had intercepted chatter on a known M.E.C.H. frequency regarding a female human who had been linked to Sideswipe and therefore to the stolen shuttle. Barricade had assumed the form of a Saleen Mustang patrol car after surreptitiously disposing of both car and officer in the desert. Police and Federal authority frequencies had likewise been alight with talk of one of said female's creators evading CIA capture. With the mute spymaster's skill, it had only taken one errant SMS for him to be traced to one of the business areas of the city.

Sideways and a team of drones had been patrolling for a while, hoping that the human male would show himself. In Barricade's mind the plan was simple, use the pair of disgusting organics as a bargaining tool for the return of the shuttle. Optimus would not allow the wretched things to come to harm so would be forced to acquiesce, whether Elita would be thrown in to the bargain would be another matter entirely. He took up position in a secluded driveway overlooking a typical suburban house, allowing his underling to do the legwork as he planned his next course of action.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"I feel so self-conscious!" Amber tried to shrink into the bucket seat as a crimson and black Lamborghini Aventador cruised serenely down a Henderson boulevard. She couldn't scoot down too far as she had to maintain the pretence of driving. "In case you haven't forgotten, how the hell am I going to explain this to dad?" She asked heatedly.

"Government contracting pays well, lottery win, rich boyfriend, running drugs or arms, high-class escort services…take yer pick." Sideswipe shot back with a laugh, deliberately blipping his engine to turn more heads. "Relax sweetspark I'm sure yer'll come up with somethin'." They drove in silence for a while before he piped up.

"Seriously though Amber this is a bad idea, a _really_ bad idea. The first place the 'Cons or M.E.C.H. would look for yer would be at home." Sideswipe's statement was devoid of his usual devilish mirth.

"Alright smart-aft." Amber replied, "Exactly how would you know that?"

"It'd be the first place I'd look if I were huntin' yer down." Amber managed to repress a shudder at the thought of being in the crimson Autobot's sights. "If yer need clothes and a shower, we hit the mall and find a motel. It's a lot fraggin' safer." Sideswipe for once hoped that human females shared the proclivity for procurement like their Cybertronian counterparts.

"Err…slight problem with that, my cards are in my bag which is in the house." Amber admitted somewhat guiltily.

"Cash?" Sideswipe asked with forced hope.

"With my cards." Amber felt herself go as red as Sideswipe's paintwork as they pulled into the quiet residential area, the venomous snarl from the exhaust earning them dirty looks from some of the more elderly residents. If it were possible for a Lamborghini to radiate the aura of disgruntled menace, Sideswipe was managing it with aplomb.

"My place is third on the…ah crap!" In front of her home were several patrol vehicles as well as a delivery van, the whole building had been cordoned off. She swallowed nervously as the panel van opened and two suited men came out. The first was in early middle-age with something of a paunch the other younger, sporting a pair of Government Issue sunglasses and tape across his nose.

"Right. We've got three options, foot to the floor and get the frag out of Dodge, blag it or the good old standard fallback plan." Sideswipe growled, suddenly having a major failure in his humour subroutines. "Incidentally as much as I hate sayin' I told you so, but I told you so!"

"Dare I ask what the standard fallback plan is?" Amber gulped, already picturing scenes of unmitigated carnage, wanton destruction and dismembered corpses decorating the street lights like bunting.

"You've already seen it sweetspark." Sideswipe retorted, confirming her worst fears.

"Running would only make us look suspicious; we're going for option two." Amber said through gritted teeth, hoping that her acting skills were up to muster. "At least the house is secure for now, but a shower and clean clothes would be so nice." She pleaded with the aggravated Autobot.

The older of the two agents motioned for her to stop and Sideswipe obediently pulled up to the curb, he appeared to be a touch perplexed as the window rolled down.

"Dr McLaren I'm surprised to see you here, I was under the impression that you were at a safe house?" Although polite, she could see that he was deeply suspicious of her presence.

"Sorry Agent..." She replied, waiting for the man to supply at least his name.

"Manfredi and this is Agent Johnson." He gestured to the younger man, who attempted a professional smile whilst looking visibly in pain. "You wouldn't happen to know where your father might be at this present time? Unfortunately when my colleague went to speak with him, there was a slight..." He trailed off, as the younger agent favoured him with a drop-dead look.

"Misunderstanding." Johnson finished flatly.

It took all of Amber's willpower not to snigger at the younger agent's appearance, though she experienced a small measure of concern that her companion might accidentally blow their cover. Judging by the fact that Johnson was breathing through his mouth, he'd managed to sustain a broken nose and the bruising was evident despite trying to hide it with the sunglasses.

"Sorry Agent Manfredi, there's things he wouldn't even tell Mom or me for that matter. Look I know I shouldn't be here but I've been held since this morning without even a shower or a change of clothes." She pouted at the agents, "Just let me get some things and I'll be out of your way, Special Agent Fowler doesn't need to know."

"Oh man, if Fowler gets wind of this he'll have our balls as paperweights!" Johnson groaned, "CSI has already been and gone, we should be okay if we keep this on the down low."

"I'll make sure HPD doesn't blow our little secret." Manfredi sighed as he ambled towards the cordon.

"Make it quick Dr." The younger agent warned. "Nice ride by the way."

"Certainly beats that pile of crap!" She replied with relief, opening the scissor door and gesturing at the mouldering AMC in the driveway.

++!++!++!++!++!++

"Autobots, the operation to secure Dr Bryan McLaren will require finesse to execute." Back at the outpost, Optimus allowed his words to sink in to the assembled troops over the comm-link. "The zone of engagement is in a highly populated urban area, we cannot afford any collateral damage or innocent casualties. Sadly Bulkhead, Ratchet informs me that due to your continued rehabilitation you are still not cleared for front-line duty yet." He was about to continue when an urgent transmission came through on the main console.

"Optimus got a riddle for yer." The gravelly voice of Sideswipe was unmistakable, "What's black and white and 'Con all over?"

Optimus didn't even pause before providing an answer, "Barricade. Sideswipe are you absolutely sure that you have a positive identification?"

"He's been up my aft for the last 'alf a mile. If I wanted another sump-probe I would've asked the good Doctor." The gladiator replied mirthlessly.

"Sideswipe, your primary objective is ensuring Amber's continued physical wellbeing by any means necessary." Optimus ordered succinctly. "Lose your tail and ensure that she arrives unharmed at her rendezvous."

"Optimus, you do remember that discussion I had with you regarding Sideswipe's interpretation of orders?" Elita's concerned tone highlighting the magnitude of the Prime's faux-pas. Both the outpost and the shuttle listened with mounting horror to the howl of Sideswipe's engine and Amber's increasingly shrill and panicked voice.

"Sideswipewhatthehelldoyouthi nkyou'redoing…OhGod…_Sideswipethat'saredlight!_" Amber's shriek was replaced by a scream of pure primal terror and the unmistakeable screech of tyres breaking traction in a spectacular fashion.

"Autobots, roll-out!" Optimus sighed from behind his own hand, "Elita I'm entrusting you with the tactical success of this mission. Sadly I face the more dangerous task of preparing damage limitation for Agent Fowler."

++!++!++!++!++!++

Henderson was known for being a quiet community on the outskirts of Vegas, popular amongst families and retirees in Nevada. One such pensioner was a Mrs R. Deagle a hatchet-faced harridan with the overall demeanour of a crack-addled pit bull. The scourge of Henderson road users, thanks to her cast-iron belief that she alone had divine right to the whole of the street, when she was at the helm of her blue mobility scooter. Currently, she was trundling along at the heady speed of five miles per hour with an expression of grim satisfaction. Behind her, was a rapidly expanding tailback of irate drivers, unable to pass without slamming into oncoming traffic thus left fuming impotently.

Cheerfully ignoring the stop sign, she turned right at the intersection sending a hapless Fed-Ex driver careening into a lamp-post in his frantic effort to avoid her.

"Watch where you're going you crazy bitch!" The somewhat concussed driver managed to yell after her, earning him the finger in the process.

She allowed herself a small cackle of satisfaction before the crimson blur rocketed past. Sideswipe grabbed another gear, spitting excess energon and flames from his exhaust before howling off at triple digit speeds. Cursing the young woman behind the wheel for her recklessness, Mrs Deagle was suddenly aware that her legs were becoming uncomfortably damp and warm. Glancing down in rising horror, she realised that her favourite blanket had become a very effective wick after being saturated with flaming fuel.

In her panic, her driving became even more erratic. "Someone call 911!" She screeched, unaware just how quickly karma can work. Moments later, the patrol car slammed into the back of the scooter at considerable velocity, its bull-bar hooking under the rear seat and thus turning her into a shrill and unwilling hood ornament.

"Crazy fragging organic!" Barricade swore under his breath. Having used his assumed identity, he had hoodwinked the HPD to join the pursuit. However, having a screaming, partially char-broiled organic on his hood would be something of a liability to his current disguise. Assessing his options he realised he needed to get rid of his unwanted passenger with haste.

With no other option he decided to floor it and catch-up to the fleeing Lamborghini, which in the pre rush-hour traffic was unable to exploit all of his horsepower. Pulling alongside the crimson Autobot, Mrs Deagle and Amber shared a brief moment of empathy before Sideswipe spied a miniscule opening and gunned it.

"You'll never fit through there!" Amber whimpered, abandoning all pretence at driving and adopting a foetal position. With preternatural skill, the gladiator shot through the gap with millimetres to spare, leaving Barricade unable to match the manoeuvre.

"Transportation's a precise business sweetspark." Sideswipe replied, the smug grin apparent in his tone.

Barricade snarled in frustration, the elderly meat-sack was now a positive pain in the aft, which needed to be ditched. Spying road workers ahead, his physics co-processor performed a series of deft calculations. Accelerating towards the earthworks, he popped his hood at the vital moment then watched with sadistic glee at the result.

The workers, hearing the approaching screech, turned to see the infamous Mrs Deagle her lap ablaze in blue flames, hurtling towards them. Diving for cover, the speeding mobility scooter shot past them and launched itself off the earthen ramp. Barricade's calculations proved to be pinpoint accurate as the blazing vehicle sailed through the air, its maiden and final flight terminating in a billboard advertising The Blue Angels aerial display team.

Barricade span his wheels as he returned to the chase, thinking to himself that this new sport might well catch on amongst the Vehicons.

++!++!++!++!++!++

Elita watched the events unfolding on screen with a grim-set expression, between Sideswipe's literal interpretation of Optimus' command and Barricade's intervention, matters were rapidly cascading like a nuclear reaction. Looking at the swarm of patrol cars that were converging on Sideswipe's position, she realised for everyone's safety that she needed to somehow route the chase onto one of the main freeways. Once there, his superior speed and skill would allow him to shake his pursuers. If not, then the body count would no doubt rise exponentially.


End file.
